


Getaway Mile

by youngand_doomed



Category: Fall Out Boy, Mindless Self Indulgence (Band), My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/M, FTM Frank Iero, First Time, Gay, Homophobic Slurs, M/M, transphobic slurs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 08:01:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24966382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youngand_doomed/pseuds/youngand_doomed
Summary: ‘Frank was certain that he hadn’t been a well-behaved kid - but he was also certain that he didn’t deserve three referrals to a child psychologist before the end of 8th grade.’In which Frank Iero is born into a body that is his, but is also very much not his, and everyone else is dragged along for the journey.
Relationships: Frank Iero/Mikey Way, Frank Iero/Ray Toro, Lindsey Ballato/Gerard Way, Mikey Way/Pete Wentz
Comments: 8
Kudos: 28





	1. Rewind, Pause, and Start Again

**Author's Note:**

> hi!  
> i wrote this story as a sort of relief, really - i’m trans myself, and i was fed up of seeing inaccurate portrayals of it in stories on here.  
> i was also fed up with seeing stories with teenagers that know exactly what they want when they want it, because i sure as fuck don’t. and i wanted a frikey story that didn’t include some sort of weird incest between mikey and gerard.  
> so here we are! i hope you enjoy, and my brain is stupid so don’t expect me to upload regularly.  
> \- theo

Frank was certain that he wasn’t a well-behaved kid - multiple visits to the hospital and quiet arguments from his parents told him that much. He was also certain that he did not deserve three referrals to a child psychologist before the end of 8th grade.

This wasn’t to say that Frank’s head wasn’t absolutely fucked up (in more ways than one), but come on! He was a child, for god’s sake, and the only times he seriously misbehaved was for attention from his parents. Since their attention always seemed sapped up by their failing marriage, they had little time to devote to their failing son. Or, should Frank say - their failing daughter.

The first referral was around 5th grade, when his very Catholic teacher had asked the class to draw their mommy and daddy holding hands. Even at age 10, Frank didn’t much like his daddy - he was barely at home, and when he was, he shouted loud at his mommy for nothing at all, it seemed. This was back when Frank was still Harriet, but instead of drawing his daddy, he drew himself holding hands with his mommy, like they did when they crossed a road.

He didn’t understand when his teacher laughed at the drawing and asked why his daddy was so short; he didn’t understand when the teacher quickly carted him off to the waiting room when he explained that, no, it was him in the picture. He sat there for what felt like hours, seeing his mommy come in and talk to the teacher for a few minutes. He did not understand the words flying between the two. All he understood was that when his mommy pulled him out of the waiting room looking angry like she did with daddy sometimes, was that it was time to go home.

He didn’t go back to school for a while, and he never went back to that school. He only realised that his old teacher had handed his mother a note with a phone number on it a few weeks later. He’d recently learned to dial numbers on the home phone so that he could call his friend Hambone (the nickname always made him giggle) and arrange to go play at the park. But once again, he didn’t understand the words that came through the receiver: ‘Ms. Gray, child psychologist’.

He didn’t think about that big long word again until the next year, just before his eleventh birthday. His new school was wary of him, especially after he’d hacked off his own hair with the kitchen scissors. But at least he wasn’t dragged around for drawing himself holding hands with mommy.

That was when the second referral happened - and the first time he actually went into Ms. Gray’s tiny office. He noted that it smelt like old lady when he walked in, like his grandma did when he hugged her - but the lady was not at all old. She explained what that big word meant when he asked (it was to help his head, she’d said), and then she spoke to his mommy while he played with some dolls.

The word ‘transgender’ was thrown around a few times, and it made him mommy cry the first time the lady said it. He was angry at her for making her cry, but soon forgot about it after she handed him a lollipop. At the end of it, she was smiling (mommy, not the not-old-lady lady), and they went to get some takeout for dinner.

Daddy was away on a trip, so he got to stay up late with mommy without being told off. She told him what ‘transgender’ meant, and asked if he ever felt like he was a boy instead of a girl. He was confused at first - didn’t everyone feel like that? - but nodded reluctantly.

That seemed to make his mommy happy, and she hugged him tightly, saying words like ‘it’s okay’ and ‘I still love you’ in his ear. He still didn’t understand why it was so important.

The final referral was a month before the end of 8th grade. This time, though, Frank kind of understood. He’d been getting into fights with bigger kids and getting knocked around pretty badly, so they decided it was time for a visit. The lady he’d seen two years before was older now, but her office smelt more like.. fruit. It made him giggle as he sat down. She told him that it was wrong to be fighting, and asked why he had done it.

“One of the boys from the big school told me that dad hated me because I was a boy, so I punched him. Hard,” he said confidently, because it was the truth and he knew that telling the truth was the right thing to do. It was true, really - Harriet was still there to him, but it didn’t really matter because he hadn’t been home in months.

That was the end of the referrals, mainly because he started talking to another lady instead. Her name was Alison, and she was pretty young - maybe the same age as his mom. She talked to him once a week, whether it was at her slightly bigger office or over the phone. And it helped. He stopped picking fights for the last month of school, and even started to calm down a little when she prescribed him some little blue pills that he took every morning.

His mom told him that she’d told them to move further away, for a few reasons. The one’s she told him were that going to a new school with new people would be good for him, and that no one would know about Harriet anymore if he went there. Frank was pretty sure his dad was one of the reasons as well.

So over the summer before high school, they packed up what they could fit into the car into boxes, and left the rest for men to come and pick up. They had Frank’s clothes in boxes, which wasn’t a lot; they had a bonfire a while back to burn up all his girly clothes. Then there was his mom’s clothes, and her shoes, and their books. They stayed with Frank’s grandpa for a while before they moved into a tiny little apartment in the dead centre of New Jersey.

His school was a shithole (‘what wasn’t a shithole in NJ?’ Frank often thought), and he hadn’t met any of his classmates because he was accepted late. He never told his mom that he was scared, even though he was fucking terrified. He was the man of the house now, in charge of looking after.. whatever the man does, he wasn’t exactly sure. He was sure that his classmates would already be friends with each other though, and he’d be sat alone at a back table like he always was.

That summer, he kept ringing Hambone on the landline like he was so accustomed with by now, and talking to his mom more and more. They shared a lot about themselves, both of them. His mom talked about when she went to high school, but he couldn’t exactly compare his shit New Jersey school to her Catholic private school. It was nice to share with her, though, about how much he hated looking like Harriet still.

On the day before he was due into class, his mom left early and came back with a bag full of clothes for him to wear - ‘let’s call it an early birthday present from your dad, okay?’. He was sure that his dad would never, ever buy this stuff for him, but he was beyond grateful. A bunch of new band shirts that he wasn’t completely sure he’d heard of before, a few new pairs of loose black jeans (he couldnt see the weird womanly shape of his legs through them), and what seemed to be a very tight crop top.

As he squinted at him, trying not to burst into a fit of giggles, his mom spoke up. “It’s a binder, honey. I didn’t know you were feeling so bad, otherwise I would’ve got you one sooner.. but it flattens out your chest. You know, so you look more masculine.” He almost burst into tears right there in the middle of the kitchen.

“Mom, oh my god - thank you, so so much.” He just kept saying it over and over, because he was so eternally grateful that he had a kickass supportive mom, instead of a shitty one that kicked him out for being himself.

He wore it under his new band shirt the next day as he went to school. He had to walk there, because his mom had work; it wasn’t like he minded at all. He had time to think, to breathe in the fresh, polluted air that wafted around the city. He had time to watch random people on the street move out of his way, because he looked like a real fucking dude. Probably not, but that’s what he told himself.

Surprisingly, the nerves he’d felt for the last week or so had gone, and they didn’t appear again until he was sinking down at his desk for the first class of the day. It wasn’t like he was bad at maths, but it was feeling eyes boring into the back of his head. He stood out, of course he did. The top of his ears went red as he tried to subtly adjust his binder - oh fuck, they could all see it, couldn't they?

The redness spread from the top of his ears to his cheeks, and then spread to the rest of his body, seemingly. He wanted to burst into flames, but instead of that, he burst into tears. He was sent to the nurse’s office, imagining the kids snickering at him behind his back. He imagined them calling his mom, and then he panicked more. He didn’t want to move again, no thank you. He actually liked the grime of the city. He didn’t want to explain that he was just being a baby to her, because, oh god, he was, wasn’t he? He was just a baby, even though he was certain it was just his anxiety flaring up. He was a fuck up, he was -

He momentarily stopped calling himself stupid names in his head to stare at whoever was sat in the nurse’s office. The first thought that he had, looking at the kid covered in blood, was ‘fuck him, he got here first!’, but then it was a thought of concern instead. He stopped whinging to the nurse once Frank stepped in as well, flashing a shit-eating grin at him and holding out his hand, dripping more blood onto the floor.

“Hi, I’m Mikey Way - your new best friend.”


	2. Who the Fuck has That Much Blood?

“Hi, I’m Mikey Way - your new best friend.”

There were still tears pouring down Frank’s face, but all he was concerned with was the blood, all over Mikey. He had blood streaming down from a nick in his eyebrow, from his bust lip, from a cut across his collarbones. He’d been beaten up before, but it had never been as bloody as this. He looked that the girl at the end of that one musical, covered in blood from head to toe - except multitudes more smiley and downright confusing.

Once Frank hesitantly took Mikey’s hand and shook it, he noticed the blood was mainly coming from cuts in his knuckles. Ah. So he hadn’t been beat up - or at least hadn’t intended to be. He withdrew his hand quickly, clearing his throat before speaking. He hoped to the holy son Jesus that the voice exercises he’d been doing with Alison had worked, because if this guy was anything like what he thought he was, he didn’t want to sound like a squeaky teenage girl. Bad first impression.

“My math teacher sent me down here, I think I had a panic attack.” Thank fuck, it was deeper than a girl’s voice at least. Mikey looked shocked out of the corner of his eye, retreating a little into himself as Frank nervously wiped the blood off his hand that he’d shook with Mikey’s. “I usually take medication for it, but I only just moved here and my mom hasn’t had time to pick up my prescription yet.”

The nurse smiled sweetly at him, nodded, and gestured to the bed in the room. “Feel free to lie down, you can stay here for as long as you want. I won’t snitch to your teacher,” she almost whispered, continuing to mop the blood from Mikey’s neck and face and - everywhere. “So, Michael. Who was it this time?”

“I don’t snitch either, Sarah.” There was a grin on his voice that Frank could identify, even with his eyes closed and drifting into a half-sleep. His binder dug uncomfortably into his side, but he’d already decided that it was worth the pain when he looked how he knew he should.

When he next opened his eyes, Mikey was sat in a chair at the other side of the room, picking at what he presumed were scabs forming on his fucked-up knuckles. He smiled when he heard Frank moving, looking up at him instead.

“Hey, dude. Sorry you saw all of that blood before, I probably freaked you out more. Sarah wanted me to watch you until she came back, in case you actually woke up. Which you did.”

“I’m aware, thanks for the memo.” His voice was back to its normal level, and he swore quietly under his breath as he saw the confusion flash onto his face. “So, uh - I probably didn’t have a great first impression, huh?” Mikey giggled - fucking giggled - and shrugged, his smile getting wider.

“Better than any other guy I’ve met through the nurse, trust me. Once there was a guy in here who had sex with his girlfriend in the bathrooms, then ran in here afterwards because he thought his dick was bleeding. Turns out his girl was just on her period. Funniest shit I’ve seen in a while.”

They talked easily, and Frank was nearly surprised, if it weren’t for the fact that half of the conversation was Mikey telling horribly exaggerated stories. At least, he presumed they were exaggerated. He couldn’t be sure with that grin back on his face.

He eventually got up, after learning the following about Mikey Way: he was in the year above him, had a boyfriend that he’d mentioned ever so casually to him, and he wanted him to sit with his friends and him at lunch. Frank couldn’t exactly refuse, even with all the classes about saying ‘no!’ that he’d had with Alison over the summer. That smile was just too fucking friendly.

Turns out, Mikey bailed at lunch to do something dubious in the bathrooms with his boyfriend - he had to bite back a laugh when he thought about the period story that he’d told him before. His friends looked concerned to say the least, but welcomed him cheerfully when he told them that he’d just moved. There was a certain look to all of them, which he’d guessed - but he hadn’t guess they could all be so different.

He spent most of the half hour talking to a girl who asked him to call her Lyn, and one called Jamia. He couldn’t tell if one of them or both of them were coming onto him, so he ignored whatever signals they were trying to send and instead asked for their numbers in a friendly way. He got the rest of their numbers as well, worrying when they manhandled his very cheap and flimsy phone around the circle to add them in. One of them, Ray, carefully passed it back to him and apologised for his friends - “If you’ve met Mikey, you’ve met all of them; don’t have any regard for themselves or anyone else”. He decided that he was the nicest and stuck with him.

Mikey wasn’t even around much, always off with his boyfriend, which Frank would never admit bothered him the tiniest bit. It had been almost a month of school, and he’d seen him three times. One of those was the day that he’d met him in the nurse’s office. Ray laughed and joked with him, but he wasn’t nearly as funny. 

He settled into a routine, though. Wake up at six, groan about school to his mother until she handed him a mug full of coffee and went off to work. Struggle around for a few minutes to get into his binder, then quickly pull the rest of his clothes on and leave the apartment late. Meet up with Ray on the way down the stairs, because apparently they lived only a few floors away from each other. Go straight to class, fumble through whatever work he was given - only broken up by a half hour of joking with Mikey’s friends. Try hard not to be disappointed when he doesn’t see Mikey Way, go home and pass out on the couch while watching some shitty horror movie.

It was nearly his fifteenth birthday when the routine was broken, finally - he’d gotten sick once again. Winter was settling in over the grim city, and that meant an influx of illnesses that Frank’s weak immune system could not kick. He forced himself into school, getting his binder on despite the protests of his aching lungs, late by two hours. He tried to explain that it wasn’t his fault he overslept - he was sick as a fucking dog. Honestly, it served them right when he threw up on the desk after coughing too much.

After being sent home (obviously), he fell asleep on the floor somewhere between the cold bathroom and the hot bedroom, only woken up when Ray came by after school.

“Dude, you don’t look good. Don’t argue with me - just put your arm over my shoulder and let me help you to bed.” He did as he was told, coughing too loudly and too harshly to argue with him. He didn’t pull any faces at the mess that was his room, which Frank was thankful for - he really didn’t want to explain anything in his room at the moment, especially the old pads that Ray must’ve seen when he went to empty his trash can. If he did see them, he didn’t say anything, just rubbed his back gently as another coughing fit came up.

“Mikey came to see us today,” Ray said, rolling his eyes so far back he must’ve seen his brain. “He had a fight with Pete, apparently, and he gave some pathetic apology about spending so little time with us recently. Gerard was all ready to welcome him back with open arms; you know what brothers are like,” - since when were Mikey and Gerard related? - “but the rest of us are still pretty pissed at him.”

“I’m pissed at him too - we’ve barely spoken, even though he asked me to be friends with him.” Frank was pissed, even though that felt like a bit of an understatement. He was ready to go ballistic at him if he saw him again, but not while he was in this pathetic sickness state.

“You’re pretty hot, Frank.” He laughed, watching up at Ray as he rolled his eyes again, smiling. “You know what I mean - you should probably take your shirt off.” And Frank’s stupid, stupid brain didn’t see a problem with taking his shirt off in front of Ray. Guys wear trunks and nothing else when they go swimming, so what was the difference if it was him and a friend at his house instead? He tugged his sweat-soaked shirt off, tossed it into his wash basket and laid down, closing his eyes.

Then promptly sat the fuck back up in terror after getting a glance at Ray’s expression. He’d seen his binder, oh my god - he was an idiot, an absolute goddamn fool. No matter how ‘skin toned’ it said it was, there was no mistaking that it wasn’t part of Frank’s flushed body at all. And there was also no mistaking the shape of his chest underneath it, which was never seen when he wore the baggy shirts he liked to wear.

Ray started to say something, looked like he was about to apologise, just before Frank burst into tears at his own stupidity. Fuck it! He was gone, sobbing into his (quite new, and still quite shocked) friend’s shoulder, choking on what felt like his own tongue as he let out great, ugly sounds. He felt hands going up and down his lower back comfortingly, trying their hardest not to brush over the stretchy material, which only made Frank cry harder. He was a freak, he was a mistake that never should’ve met Ray - it all came spilling out of his mouth between his odd hiccuping noises.

“Holy shit, Frank, don’t say that! You’re one of my best friends, this doesn’t change anything. I just.. didn’t expect you to be - you know, that’s all.” Frank was still disgusted with himself, angry with himself for crying like this. Ray couldn’t even say the word ‘transgender’ for fear of sending him into a deeper spiral than he was already in. “This doesn’t change anything, unless you want it to. No one else knows, it’s just me. Try and calm down though, please.. your chest sounds really bad.”

He did calm down after a few minutes, the loud, choking sobs turning into quieter hiccups as he pulled away from him a little, mustering up a tiny smile in an attempt to apologise. Ray being Ray, he got pulled into a bone-crushing hug, and, Frank’s shitty immune system being Frank’s shitty immune system, he got sent into another coughing fit, which turned into an awkward giggling between them afterwards.

“This doesn’t change anything. You’re still an idiot, it’s just not for this. Don’t go getting it into your head that you’re Einstein.” More laughter, calming laughter that eased him up enough to lie down on the bed again. “If you need to talk to me about anything, literally anything at all - even if it’s some weird shit about your pussy - I’m only downstairs, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you for not being weird about it, man. When I met Mikey, I was worried he was gonna hit me for like.. having a girl’s voice or something.”

“Mikey’s not like that at all - he’s a sweetheart, and he’s really fucking shy when you crack him open. The only reason he’s covered in someone’s blood so often is because he’s defensive and gets easily riled up.”

Frank tried to relax after that - his head was pounding from all the crying and coughing, but he slipped into sleep easily after a while of Ray rubbing his back gently, gently pushing his fingers under the back of his binder every so often. It comforts him to know that he’s got such a good friend in him, it really does - but it confuses him a little. Hambone never judged him for being a guy, of course he didn’t; he also didn’t lay down next to Frank when he was ill and probably contagious, running his hands up and down his back.

Whatever he had cleared up in a week or so, with his mom and Ray fussing over him every day. Ray had been up at his place every day after school, and all day at the weekends - he stayed over Friday and Saturday night, just to make sure he was okay. He couldn’t help but feel jealous when his head cleared enough to think like that. He was also sure he felt something on the Saturday night when they lay in bed.

It was hot, and Frank had been sweating buckets anyway. He was giggling every time Ray grumbled about it like a damn schoolgirl, so they both ended up laying there in their underwear as the night went on. To be fair, it wasn’t just the fever - it was an unusually hot night for October in New Jersey. So when they stripped off their sweaty shirts and jeans, throwing them god knows where, and lay almost nose to nose in Frank’s bed, he was jealous. He was jealous that Ray had such an ease with his own body and the way he looked that his first idea was to just simply get undressed. Of course it hadn’t been that easy for Frank, and it’d taken some coaxing - but that wasn’t all he was jealous of. He was jealous of his height, and how his legs were scrunched up in the small bed when Frank had to stretch his toes to touch the bottom wall. He was jealous of his lack of women’s features, of his voice that had already dropped, of the fucking dick in his boxers that fit fine.

Of course he told Ray all of this, and of course they’d laughed quietly about it together; he was still jealous. “No one’s perfect, Frank,” Ray had told him, his hands resting on the small of his back. But he was still angry for no reason, face red in annoyance, he guessed. “No one’s perfect, but your body is yours. So I guess you just have to suck it up and deal with it.” He’d also told him that it was okay if he wanted to take his binder off, and he wasn’t going to do anything - but he wasn’t quite there yet. It ached his already fucked lungs but he needed the pressure on his ribs to stay sane at that point.

They fell asleep not long after planning Frank’s birthday. Halloween themed, as always (Frank had laughed at his enthusiasm when he learned that his birthday was the ‘best day of the year’), with only the closest of the close invited. He wanted to invite Hambone too - he felt guilty for only remembering that he existed just then, let alone forgetting to call him since he’d started school.

In the morning (nearly afternoon), Frank woke up to a face full of Ray’s bare chest, laughing to himself and feeling something resonate in his stomach. He brushed it off as hunger, crawling awkwardly off the bed and going to raid the kitchen for them both, feeling much better already. Thank the lord for Ray Toro.


	3. Fuck You Halloween

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi!  
> i started this fic last week, when i was using a different phone to my usual one - usually this website is blocked on my phone and laptop. i'm currently on my new laptop, although i'm not sure how often i'll be able to update right now; so please be patient! thank you guys!!  
> also - there is a slight trigger warning here for development of eating disorders and paranoia about weight, so don't read if this affects you. i hope you guys all stay safe!  
> -theo

Until it was Frank’s birthday, he didn’t much think about anything else but the sugar high he’d get. He constantly thanked his mom for letting him and his friends stay while she went and stayed with his grandpa for the weekend, leaving him and the others alone for the whole time. She’d raised an eyebrow at having Ray and Gerard over, because they were older, but Ray had a way of making friends with people that Frank admired, and Gerard had a sharp wit that made people laugh. All he had to do then was convince her that no, mom, I’m not dating Ray no matter how long he stayed when I was sick, and they were good to go.

True to his word, Ray hadn’t told anyone about Frank, and had been at the end of the phone whenever he wanted to talk. In the weeks between Frank’s illness (that he was sure Ray had caught to some extent) and Halloween, he’d stayed over at least once a weekend, sometimes staying for the whole weekend. It was comforting to have the hand rubbing his back even when he wasn’t coughing up his lungs, and even when he got those weird hunger pains in his stomach more often. He blamed it on his period, as he did with most things around Ray, laughing it off and simply stuffing his face more often. 

He wasn’t laughing so much when he looked at himself in the mirror the day before his party, after trying on his new clothes. He was excited to wear them and show off to everyone. He was especially excited to show Mikey if he ended up showing up - he hadn’t heard about Mikey and his stupid Pete since he was sick. He’d invited him, though. Both him and his boyfriend, actually, on accounts of trying to make more friends. 

He wasn’t exactly sure if he was friends with Mikey yet. He was definitely friends with Ray, probably closer than he’d been with anyone, and Gerard as well. He spoke to Lyn, Jamia and the other guy, Bob, enough to consider them friends, but Mikey? He’d had less conversations with him than he’d had with his math teacher. So no, maybe they weren’t friends; they were just people who happened to have a really great first meeting, then do nothing about it.

So when Frank stood in front of the mirror, excited about looking good in his new clothes and showing them off to Mikey, he was suddenly pulled back to the ground, and fast. He had put on weight from stuffing his face whenever Ray was around, of course he had. The baggy jeans that he wore were no longer baggy around his waist, fitting a little on the wrong side of snug above his stupid hips. And his binder took more of a struggle to get on than usual - now that he looked at it, there was a little roll coming out from the tight fabric of the item. It wasn’t a lot, really. If it was the roll of fat that he was actually bothered about, then he’d be focused on the ones around his stomach and waist, where the denim was digging in painfully. He was actually focused on where the small roll was, and that his binder was the thing causing it. It was enough to bring him back down from whatever had made him so happy, and made him painfully aware of the reality - he was not a guy.

Frank knew he’d be blaming his period for the tears soaking his own new shirt later, but no one else would know that he was a long way off that. He tried to keep quiet so he wouldn’t alert his mom to the fact that he was having a breakdown over a small roll of fat, but that was making painful jolts on his ribs every time he breathed in. He didn’t want to bother Ray with something so small and insignificant. So he wallowed.

His birthday party didn’t seem so great an idea after that. Suddenly, all the bags of candy they were going to eat made him sick to the stomach, and he wanted to call off the whole thing. He wanted to crawl under his bed and curl up and not eat anything ever again, but he would be fifteen in less than three hours. He reassured himself that he didn’t have to eat any of the candy if he didn’t want to - it was his damn party, his birthday. He’d just drink a few glasses of whatever juice combination his mom had made instead, and play an unhealthy amount of video games.

He could tell the next morning when his mom woke him up that she could tell he was having an off day, but she didn’t mention it. All she did was hand him his morning coffee and a few card that had been posted through, kissed his cheek and rushed off to work. He’d been granted the day off as he usually did, but he wished he was in school for the first time ever. At least then he wouldn’t have to think about what he was eating and how wrong it made him feel. And even though he knew Ray would come in earlier than everyone else, it was still too many hours alone with his stupid brain.

He took both types of his medication, not bothering to check if they were allowed to be taken together; he just wanted to stop thinking about being fat. And he did, until Ray barged in right after school was over. He was carrying a present, big enough that Frank felt bad before he opened it. He could feel his eyes on him as he slowly tore the paper, probably wondering why he had dried tears stuck to his cheeks still. The gift was perfect. A few books, yes, but it was perfect to him. He smiled properly for the first time that day and hugged Ray tightly, thanking him profusely.

Everyone else turned up throughout the afternoon, passing him gifts that Frank was certain were too expensive for someone you'd known for just over two months. But he took them gratefully, thanking Gerard and Lindsey and Jamia for whatever they'd brought. It was past when he'd asked Mikey and Pete to turn up when they did, so Frank had assumed they wouldn't be coming at all; that was okay with him. He was happy enough with Ray, despite how much he was trying to get him to eat some of the candy. He said no, obviously - he was worried about putting on more of that stupid weight. But surprisingly enough, Mikey came through the door at seven, an hour after he was supposed to show up. His nose was bloody, his jaw was bruised, but he was there.

Seeing him only made Frank feel even shittier about how he looked himself - his shirt hung loosely around his stomach, and his pants were barely around his hips. And when Frank looked at himself, he could see his jeans clinging to his wide hips, stretched out, and his shirt showed the little bump under his binder. Fuck. He smiled weakly at him, and spent the rest of the night in a slight blur. He was exhausted from not eating nearly as much as he usually did, coupled with the manic energy of the other guys left him passed out on the couch by nine.

It was the worst birthday that he had ever had, and it wasn't anyone's fault but his own. He'd gotten a new guitar from his mom, and loads and loads of cool stuff from his friends, but he was being held back by his own mind. He wanted to forget that he was so paranoid about his weight now, but it was always nagging in the back of his mind. Nagging and nagging and nagging until he was shoving his own fingers down his throat to throw up whatever little he'd eaten that day. Oh god.


	4. Frank Iero's Downfall (The Beginning of Everything Bad)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this will probably be the last update for a week or so, since i'm going back to my dad's house and i can't get onto my new laptop while i'm there - i'll be checking kudos and comments through my email though, so thank you for those!  
> trigger warning for this chapter and the foreseeable future chapters: eating disorder, throwing up  
> also (not that anyone cares) i'm going by frankie instead of theo now!  
> -frankie <3

There was a moment right after Frank had pushed his fingers down his throat that was really an 'oh-shit-I've-fucked-up' moment. He had vomit down his chin, all over his hand and some down his shirt - he was a real mess. He wanted to call Ray or talk to his mom because he was struggling so much and he really needed someone to talk to. But then he realised that he'd probably have to talk to Alison about his problems, and they'd force him to eat, and then he'd put on that weight again; as much as he hated this state that he was in, he was happy that there wasn't a roll under his binder when he put it on now.

He simply cleaned himself up, flushed the toilet and threw his shirt into the wash basket. He went back to his room, lying on his bed and trying to sleep. And that was what happened every night for a month and a half before his grim schedule was interrupted. His friends had clearly noticed something was wrong and forced him to eat something at lunch every day without fail (which only made him throw up more often). Lindsey and Gerard started getting closer, which only made Jamia come onto him more often - he hated getting more attention when he was like this.

Ray, in particular, noticed that something was wrong. He was back around his apartment every night after school, feeding him who-knows-what vegan food he'd found, before his mom came home and made him the usual tofu dish. It wasn’t like Frank didn’t appreciate all the food and attention he was getting - but it was pushing him further over the edge. He was throwing up whenever Ray came over. 

Frank had a new routine in place. He would wake up earlier than his mom, check his weight on the crappy scales that he’d bought, get ready for school and set off early enough that he knew Ray wouldn’t walk with him. He’d hide out in the bathrooms at lunch (unless one of his friends found him), walk home with Ray and be fed for a couple hours, wait for his mom to fall asleep on the couch before shoving his fingers down his throat again.

He should’ve known that the new routine meant he was pushing everyone away; he hadn’t spoken to Mikey since his party, and barely spoke to any of his other friends besides Ray. Most nights, he’d lie in bed and curse Ray for being so persistent and confident in their friendship. All he wanted to do was curl up pathetically on his bed and forget about the gnawing ache that came with being friends with the guy. He’d casually mentioned it to Gerard one day, when he’d coaxed him out of the bathroom - Gerard just looked confused (and slightly amused).

“Dude, it sounds like you’ve got a crush on Toro,” he mused, grinning at the reaction it got from Frank. He went quiet, then bright red, before furiously shaking his head and denying it.

“Fuck, no! Of course I don’t have a crush on Ray, he’s my best friend!” He was mildly upset about the rise in his voice that came with being angry or anxious about something, but Gerard didn’t seem to notice. He had enough of his own weird quirks to fill a novel.

“I’m just saying - pretty sure he likes you too.”

Ray wasn’t invited around his house after that. Frank was terrified that Gerard was right, and started shutting him out of his life as well. He hid in the bathrooms after school until he knew Ray would’ve got sick of waiting, and locked his door the minute he got inside. Pushing away Ray also meant pushing away his friends, but that was something Frank had to come to terms with. It would be much easier to be friendless than to be some gay tranny that ruined all his friendships in a normal, human way. He would do it in his own way, on his own terms.

It felt like Ray gave up on looking after him after a few weeks of the silent treatment. It made Frank happy that he didn’t have to eat anymore; he didn’t want to be eating anything. But it also made him weaker, paler and frailer - he could barely find the strength to stand on most days. He wanted, knew that he desperately needed to tell Alison that he was at the bottom of a deep pit of self-loathing, because he had a spoon and was digging away deeper. His aching bones stopped him from picking up the phone every time.

In his head, Frank knew that it was his own fault that he had no friends anymore. In his heart, the real Frank was locked up, sobbing and begging to be let free. The real Frank wanted to talk to Ray again, to fucking kiss the stupid smile he had on his face away. The new Frank kept him locked away, putting on a stony front as he drank more than enough cold water to fill up the new sort of pit in his stomach. This pit didn’t feel as good as the one he got around Ray, and definitely wasn’t as easy to ignore.

Alison called him in the beginning of December; he suspected his mom was getting worried about him and had called her. He could lie like hell, spinning stories about how much fun he was having here, about how much he missed her. She didn’t attempt to push past the wide smiles even if she could sense they were fake. She asked him about Ray, and he lied again - they were fine, better than ever even! They hung out every day after school, and played video games in Frank’s bedroom. In reality, he couldn’t remember seeing Ray in what felt like years. She checked that he was healthy, and he only thing he commented on was that he was colder than usual. He’d gotten a stomach bug, but it’d go away soon.

It did not go away. Christmas rolled around quicker than Frank wanted it to. He hated the holiday more than anything, because it was so cheery when all he wanted to do was sit on the cold bathroom floor and pretend he didn’t exist. The thought of all the ‘Harriet Iero’s on his gifts made him cry more than once in the run up. He kept himself busy with buying small gifts for his friends, though he was certain they wouldn’t want him around, and more than enough for his mom. He couldn’t remember spending so much money on something that didn’t have strings, but he was happy. He wanted everyone to be happy besides him.

In the last week of school before Christmas break, he finally approached his friends in the canteen again. He was expecting to be laughed and jeered at before forced to go back to the bathroom, but they proved him wrong. They welcomed him back happily, although with worried looks on their faces, and gladly accepted his shitty gifts that he’d brought. Ray and Gerard eyed him nervously as he refused food - he suspected Gerard knew he was right about liking Ray, and Ray probably made assumptions about his problem. They didn’t try and say anything though, which was good. He wanted them to be happy before he inevitably collapsed during the holidays.

That Friday, Ray invited him to a music show - some underground punk band that Frank had never heard of. At first, his brain had told him that it was a stupid idea. For one, he was underage, and two, he was feeling weaker than ever. This time, however, his heart won over his brain and he agreed. If he collapsed at the show, he reckoned he’d get put into rehab at the first chance they got. Weird thing to wish for at Christmas, but each to their own.


	5. Thank Fuck for Punk Shows (and Ray Toro, of Course)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jokes, I’m back again! so my phone broke (again) and im really invested in this story now - i love that i can project my own personal struggles into the characters in this story.  
> i really love getting comments from you guys, it makes me feel like writing is actually worth something. so thank you!  
> \- frankie <3

Frank had never been to a punk show before, so he wasn’t sure what to expect. He knew there was bound to be some tough guys that would probably beat him up if they found out about Harriet, and that there would be a lot of screaming and shouting and injustice. However, neither of those things helped Frank decide on what to wear.

He ended up settling on the band shirt that he got for his birthday (it reminded Frank of the first bad time, before he was too dizzy to think) and a pair of ripped jeans that he was sure were skinny the last time he’d worn them. Now they hung loosely on his hips, showing the waistband of the pathetically fitting boxers he had on. On the way out of the apartment, his mom told him he looked good, and it made him feel a flash of pride towards the way he looked.

Walking down the street with Ray, he didn’t feel the same apprehension he’d felt just a few days ago. Apparently, his heart was in charge tonight - maybe he’d admitted to himself that he might like Ray a teeny tiny bit, okay? He could barely keep the grin off his face as they ducked into a bar. No one bothered to check their IDs.

Ray looked considerably older than Frank, even though it was only a year and a half between them, so he bought them some drinks; two luke warm beers that Frank suspected had been stored somewhere underneath the bar instead of in a cooler. But the slight buzz it gave him took the edge off his nerves about nothing in particular, and he’d loosened up a lot by the time the band came on stage.

He was impressed by the appearances of these guys; three of the four were wearing short skirts and fishnets, although he wasn’t exactly sure if all of those were girls. The other one was shirtless, stood with a mic confidently in his hands. His pants were skin tight, leaving the audience with nothing to the imagination. It made Frank giggle.

“Alright motherfuckers! I want to see a pit starting as soon as the song is going - I’ll count you down, three two one, and then all run in!” Frank’s stomach went up to his mouth and he nearly vomited right there. Luckily, Ray had no interest in the pit once they were rushing in, the sickening crash of bones nearly deafening the music, and chose to thrash around with Frank at the back of the crowd instead.

After three beers (all suspiciously warm) and the fifth song, he was laughing with Ray, pressed flush against his chest and his stomach. They were back against the slightly sticky wall, and he could feel his hot breath against his neck as they awkwardly rutted against each other in an attempt of dancing. Frank was on the verge of vomiting again, in a weirdly good way, as he felt strong hands resting on his waist. He wanted to kiss his friend, and it made him so nervous. Although it was kinda weird to admit, he was really fucking wet because Ray had his leg in between his and kept pressing it up.

“Frank, I think I’m-,” Ray began. But Frank didn’t get to find out what he thought he was, because he blacked out mid sentence. He desperately wished that he’d wake up inside a mental institution where they’d tell it to him straight: ‘you’re a fucking mess and you need help’. He wanted his mom to cry and force him to eat every night. He wanted Ray to visit him every day, like he used to, and play video games with him while they sat on his bed. “Frank?”

“What?” He opened his eyes cautiously, letting out a broken sob as he realised that he wasn’t in a straight jacket, but instead laying across sweaty seats inside the bar. The people who’d he’d previously been scared of were surrounding him to shield him from view, and Ray had one of his big hands on his forehead to wipe the sweat away. He was shivering. Shit.

“You just - just collapsed on me, dude! No warning or anything. I was so scared..” He looked genuinely shell-shocked, to be honest. It made him want to sit up and hug him tightly, but he was too weak to move at all. “Don’t move.. your mom’s on her way. Everyone knows, Frank. You didn’t hide it very well.”

Lock him up in a mental hospital and throw away the key - that would be easier than whatever he felt when his mom had to come into a dubious bar just to pick up her unstable son. He wanted to crawl away and die with the warm beers under the bar, because she looked a mixture of furious and distraught. Ray offered to come home with them; she refused, but did offer him a ride back home. She told him to sleep it off, that Frank would be fine in the morning.

Of course he wasn’t fine in the morning, but he was feeling better than the night before. When he finally hauled himself out of bed, he didn’t go straight for the bathroom like he usually did. He changed out of his clothes from the night before, desperate to get the stickiness away from him. His boxers had been disgustingly soaked; he was ashamed with himself for letting it get that far. He knew for a fact that his mom would’ve taken the day off work to stay home and comfort Frank, just like she did when his dad stormed out. Except he was sure that this time would involve a lot more talking than that one.

Luckily, she didn’t shout. She didn’t seem angry at all. They talked all day, and he had to admit that he was genuinely happy to talk to her about getting out of the rut he was in. He wanted to stop the bad habits and start being healthy again. They rewatched Star Wars for the twentieth time, despite her weak protests and silly arguments that they always had because of it. Because they were Linda and Frank; they could get through anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry that this was shorter than usual - normally i aim for 10,000 characters, but im kinda out of it today with health problems. anyway, i hope yall enjoy!  
> \- frankie <3


	6. Winter Should Be Illegal (But Also Not)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this is so short, im in the middle of writing songs for my band and im sort of preoccupied with that!  
> \- frankie <3

Frank doesn’t see his friends much over the Christmas break. His mom had insisted they spent it with his grandpa, and he wasn’t one to refuse seeing him. He called Ray as much as he could, both of them awkwardly avoiding the subject of him passing out at the show. Instead, Frank showed him a song that he’d half-written on guitar (he was just inspired by the punk band), and they simply talked about music.

It was somewhere in those two weeks where they spoke on the phone that Frank finally admits that, okay, maybe he likes Ray more than a little, and that it sort of scares him. Since he was on a streak of talking to his mom about things that bothered him, he told her about it. She says something along the lines of it not being a big deal, since Ray was a ‘nice boy’, and that he shouldn’t let it get in the way of things. He could tell what she was really saying: don’t let him force you back into an eating disorder.

When they finally got home, he had just two days before the end of the break. For the first day, he lounged around in bed, messing around with his phone and trying to wrap himself tight enough in the blanket that he couldn’t feel the cold that ran through the apartment. For the second day, however, he invited Ray over. His brain told him that it was a stupid idea, and that he didn’t like him whatsoever, but his heart said other things. It said that Ray liked him just as much as he did, and they actually had a chance. Clearly, his heart won.

He showed up at his apartment door the next day at ten in the morning, wearing what looked to be at least two hoodies and a jacket. Frank was just in the one he’d worn to bed, and felt like he was going to keep shivering until he was just a shaking mess. They went back to his room, just like usual, and both wrapped up in his blankets while they watched a movie.

Frank needed to tell him. “Ray? If I tell you something, can you promise not to freak out?” Ray turned to face him, nodding a little. He took a deep breath. “I think.. I think I might have a crush on you. It kinda scares me, because you’re my best friend, but it wouldn’t be fair to not tell you-.” Ray kissed him.

He was kissing Ray fucking Toro - not just the friendly kisses that he left on his head, a real kiss on the mouth. He couldn’t help the surprised gasp that was passed into his mouth, and then a laugh at how ridiculous the situation was. Ray laughed as well, but kept kissing him - his nose was practically pushing into his cheek at this point. Finally, Frank kissed back, moving a hand to the back of his neck.

They were kissing for a few minutes before they finally pulled away to take a breath. Frank was laughing like an idiot, pressing his head into Ray’s shoulder. He seemed mildly amused by the situation, but chose to run his fingers through Frank’s hair instead.

“What’s so funny?”

“Just - this. Feel like an idiot.”

“Well you aren’t an idiot, now kiss me again.”

Frank felt like he was flying. They kissed for what felt like years and years, but was probably only an hour or so. In between kisses, they talked about this. It was new, that was for sure. And it wasn’t exactly something that they wanted people to know about. The one thing they disagreed on was who they could tell; Ray wanted to tell their friends, but Frank argued against it. He was already on thin ice with his eating, and it felt like telling people he liked making out with his best friend was too far for him.

They ignored the subject afterwards, and went back to kissing. To be honest, he thought Ray was getting a little too handsy, but he wasn’t going to complain. One of the better feelings in the world, he’d decided, was his hands running up and down his back, and down to his thighs, and - holy shit, he had his hand down his jeans.

His surprised gasp before was nothing compared to the noise that came out of his mouth when that happened. He had his fingers digging into Ray’s shoulders to ground himself, as his fingers were elsewhere - he could feel them moving around under his boxers. He whined loudly, giggling nervously afterwards.

“Ray - oh fuck, my mom’s only in her room, she’s gonna hear-,” he kept whimpering, starting to buck his hips up towards him. It felt like one of the most awkward, but one of the best, experiences of his life. He could hear Ray laughing above him, feel him moving his fingers harder and harder, until he was losing it and biting down hard on his shoulder, into the two stupid hoodies that he was still wearing.

He pulled his fingers out with a grin, wiping them on his jeans before pulling him back in for a hug, trying to get him warm. They were both shaking and shivering more than before, but it was also better than before - it felt like something between them had been broken down, and it was finally going to get better from there.


End file.
